She lifted her arms to wrap around his neck and head, holding him gently to her, like he might break, or was already broken. He was barely holding together, it seemed like. In response to his question, she didn’t know what to do other than whisper, “I’m okay,” into the crook of his neck.
Killah was reminded of that very first wolf-dream, the one where she’d been so convinced she was only imagining Amean because she was afraid he’d died while out on a mission. She closed her eyes. Hoping it would be enough to reassure him that she was really there, she held him tightly for a few moments.
The firelight played against her eyelids, flashing dark and reddish, tempting her to stay like that and maybe even fall asleep. It had been such a long way from that moment to this one, and it felt as though more time had passed than she could even comprehend. “I’m okay,” she said again, “and I’m here. And I’ll stay here, if you want me to.”
Because that was the crux of the matter. Could he forgive her for running away like she had? Would anyone, really? Or would there always be a hint of hesitation before she was trusted. She couldn’t bear to think what it would be like if the people she’d abandoned when she’d been so unstable didn’t trust her now, now when she had finally gotten her feet truly under her. It was like worrying that she’d be blamed for another person’s actions—but she couldn’t think like that, because it hadn’t been another person, it had most definitely been her, no matter how different she felt.
She wanted to tell him everything that had happened to her, but she didn’t know how to possibly begin it, so she stayed in his arms. She wanted to pull away, to see his face, but she was afraid of what she might find if she did.
Amean could hardly believe this was actually happening. Both of them, standing together, bodies this close. Really, this was the first time they had been this physically close, save for some drunk hugs or dares maybe. But it was more than that. It was the emotional closeness to her, this feeling that she was not only doing the motions, that she felt as close to him as his soul to hers - it was incredible.
His chest was burning, his heart beating up his rips from the inside, and it hurt, it hurt so good to have her in his arms. Amean had known he loved her, the last months and weeks his mind has been filled with Killah, and her safety, and the anger he had for her leaving, and the sadness he had from being alone although she had written she loved him. But now, with her deep scent, and her warm body and her soft hair - Amean knew that it wasn’t just obsession or the crush he had on her in their bar days. He really, actually loved her.
Holding her even tighter, the Teccup didn’t want to let go - ever. They had stood there for minutes without end, without it becoming boring, as if they were trying to catch up on all the contact and reassuring they had lacked all this time.
But he had to tell, her or Amean would burst and his heart would slaughter all Dracomancers all on its own, freed from muscle and skin. So slowly, Amean loosened his tight grip around Killah, pulling his hand from the back of her hand to her cheek. It stung, how pretty she was. How this badass-i-will-kick-your-ass woman wielding a gigantic axe, the woman that was able to drink so much it made a fool of him, so much taller - how she was looking at him with what seemed to almost fear. They were together now, but there was so much they still had to go through.
Clenching his jaw, Amean withheld the urge to kiss her, to give in to the passion he held for her that was spilling out of his core like water through a hole in a ship. He could still feel the letter, but -
she had been gone for so long.
Amean knew what he felt, but he didn’t dare to assume anything and then be pushed away and laughed at.
“What you’ve-”, Amean started, surprised how calm his voice was when his insides were shaken so much, “What you’ve written to me. Is it still true?”
For the first time in her life, Killah had a set hierarchy—a plan. It was all about how she wanted to deal with things coming back. It went: Find Deas. Laugh hysterically. Don’t get hanged. Get job back. And then sort life out. Sort out everything that’d been left in shambles. Find Bane, and Kelt. And lastly, find Amean—because she knew after she found him everything would change one way or another, and she wanted to take care of the other things first while she could still function properly. She’d just been settling in at the camp (step four of the hierarchy) when coincidence decided to take her plans and just screw with them, massively.
She’d never seen any members of her Compan move as quietly or as quickly in all her years of service as they did at the moment that Amean appeared. And he did appear. One second she was lying wildly to Beck and Elezar about where she’d been and why, and the next a phantom had come rushing at her from the shadows, almost as though out of her memory, hardly real—and her audience evaporated with a stealth that would have made any Commander proud.
Amean seized her by the arms, and she had no choice—the message was clear. She had to confront him. But for once, Killah found she didn’t want to run.
She grasped his forearms even as he held her there, almost as though they were dancing, or fighting. She squeezed lightly, holding his bright eyes with her own. He looked so tired, and somehow older than a couple of months could account for. He was still beautiful, and he was everything she’d tried so hard to let go of while she was in the desert. Everything she’d missed.
“I’m here,” she said softly. “Amean, I—“ She shook sudden tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. And I’m so, so, so sorry.” Sorry for leaving, for writing that letter, for feeling the way she had, and laying that on him for her own selfish peace of mind. And above all, she was sorry she’d made herself forget him.
Once upon a time Amean was a calm person. A person who was a little shy, a dreamer that spend most of his days being with his mates, who were all alright and alive, day dreaming about the days after the war, when he’d open up an animal shelter in his home town, painting in his spare time. He was collected in battle, cautious.
Then, month after month, his whole life turned around, everything started to crumble and Amean found himself trying to run after the calm he once had had, his heart fluttering and his breath shallow.
His throat was so raw and blocked, not a sound could escape it. Amean stared at Killah as if she would disappear again when he blinked and his arms were tight, muscles sharp making sure she could not run. Part of him wanted to give her the opportunity to, the freedom, to, but that part was a dust corn in comparison with the part that wanted to put her in chains and interrogate her and keep her with him forever.
Yet unlike he expected, Killah didn’t move, she even held upon his own arms, both of them holding onto each other - the air in between them felt like it was razors to Amean. The wetness in her eyes made them shine and Amean could not control himself for a second longer. Torn between screaming, kissing and shaking her, Amean forcefully pulled her to him and tight in his arms, pressing her head against his shoulder, burying his chin into hers.
He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t, the pain in his chest just too much, and the relief in his mind from finally, physically holding her tight as he wanted to for so long. At least he didn’t cry, at least that.
Amean wanted to say “I love you”, but somehow, he didn’t manage. Not letting go, instead, he asked “Are you hurt?” with the futility of knowing that there was a battle right ahead of them and this might be the last time for weeks the answer might not be ‘only a little’.
Another nap, no wolf. It felt like ages, like years when he had seen her the last time. It was a whole other time. Salsia was still alive back then. Calat still a Mancer. That was the last time he had seen her, in person at last.
Then there were the dreams. The dreams Amean had tried so hard to recreate those last weeks, months, when he had gone to sleep early and out of bed late and snuck a nap everywhere he could. But to no avail, there was no wolf.
But what was he supposed to do? He had come to Kelt with the letter and asked for help, but nobody knew anything. She was on a mission he was not allowed on, not allowed to leave the cities, disobey his orders - trapped. Trapped in cities and in his apartment when Reemus’ thought that Amean wanted to leave, which he did. Trapped in this war that he had never wanted to be a part of. Trapped with all those feelings raging in his chest, not fading, because he didn’t let them.
Amean touched the letter that was resting in the inside pocket of his jacket. He knew so much by heart now. It was cold at night, still, in the Leadon fields, where the wind had no breakers or barriers and planned mischief. If Amean was to die this battle, the letter would be with him. He had written another for his family in the other pocket. It still felt grotesque to write letters of your own death, taken from his body if they found it, send, hopefully. But with all those friends he had seen die, Amean wanted to have words for his beloved ones ready. If the letter was never send, even better.
Alright. He couldn’t sit anymore, his legs needed exercise, or at least movement, in preparation of the days of battle to come. Standing up, Amean stretched, looked around in the dim lights of the fires that were lit here and there. Walking around the rim of the camp, his hands buried deep in his jacket’s pockets, he saw Killah when he looked between the tents.
One of the downsides to sleeping too much was that eventually, it all faded together a little. Him, the world, the images and memories of Killah he kept pulling into his conscience. Still, Amean liked to watch, even if it wasn’t real. Liked to see the fire play with the colour of her skin, her hair fall into her face. She was so beautiful. Amean held his breath, so he could hear her voice. She was talking to someone. Someone spoke back to her.
Suddenly, it was as if Amean’s body temperature had dropped to minus 10 degrees. Talking. It couldn’t be. His hands started to shake violently, and Amean had to hold his cheek to feel his scruff. He was not sleeping. He was not dreaming. Almost - if he was any less confused and angry - tears could have welled up in his eyes.
Amean watched her for another full minutes, his heart burning like oil set on fire, just to make sure. Just to make sure.
Then she turned her face towards him, and Amean didn’t know whether she saw him in the shadow of the tents or not, but he lept towards them, sprinted over logs, bags and passed-out drunkards towards her, until he was there. The people she had talked to looked at him as if he was a madman, but he couldn’t care less. Grabbing her by her arms, Amean wanted to scream at her.
Yet instead, his voice breaking, he said: “Killah...!”
Kelt looked at the letter, he was getting a bit curious to find out what the man was here for, to show him, to ask him. He smiled still, warmly and quietly as the an spoke. What, hold up a minute! He did know this guy, he had gone on an adventure with him once, this was Amean, or he thought that was his name. Hadn’t they met at Alcart? He was confused about whether or not they were acquaintances.
You mean a mission to Warlestian? Right? I am friends with the Sers indeed, so if you could be a bit more specific about this mission, I am sure I can come up with an answer.
Amean gritted his teeth and ran his rand through his hair. No, calm down Amean. Calm and balance, Uan and Tuan. Still, Kelt's smile both cheered him up and made him feel so miserable, still suffering of all these emotions at once. More specific turned out to be kind of difficult, though.
I'm pretty sure it's a mission at least, it could be just a trip, too, she wrote - she... Killah Do, she went there.
He skimmed through the letter again, trying to contain his upwelling feelings. Nothing.
What would you do if you found out someone secretly liked you?
Someone secretly liking... me? Like, like-liking? I mean, I guess I'd be flattered! Totally flattered, actually, but I'm actually kind of secretly liking someone, too?
Unless the person that secretly likes me is the person I secretly like, but that's impossible, because the person that secretly likes me doesn't like me secretly anymore?
It was time again. His dream had ended and two, or three, but surely not four days had gone by. Maybe four. His head pounded, he didn't really know. But he had known he wanted to get up again ever since that dream.
That was something only Killah could do to him.
He had talked with so many, had slept so much, but of course, again, it was Killah that had made him... do stuff. Act, he, who was busy dreaming away his life, waiting for the war to be over so he could do what he wanted - afterwards.
Killah wasn't like that, Killah was heat and fire and... gentleness and Killah did. So he would do, too. He had slept for too long, left his friends out risking their lives for too long. He had woken up.
Running his hands over his face, only now he felt how big and bushy his beard had gotten. Sitting up, Amean turned himself towards the room, his feet touching the cold ground. Getting himself up, his legs shook and he almost stumbled, but got himself. It was quiet, so the rest of his compan seemed to be busy somewhere else. Of course. War didn't just stop, after all.
The kitchen and common room were empty, and thus Amean made his way to the bathroom. He really looked horrible, especially horrible that is to say. But no longer. Do. Just do. So he shaved, and combed his hair, even if it was painful.
As he was about to go back to his room to find another thing to do, Amean found out he wasn't alone after all. Standing in the hallway in a sweatshirt and his boxers, Belvus was peaking out of his room.
"Amean.", Belvus said, and after Amean didn't reply, Belvus repeated it again. "Amean. You're... awake. You've shaved.", the Blue Magician said, obviously utterly surprised to see his Compan Member. Amean smiled at him, a little ashamed. "Yeah, I kinda have...", he brought out awkwardly.
"Have you... have you read the letter yet?"
Amean looked up again, still stroking his now hairless chin. Felt weird. "A letter?", he asked and Belvus looked at him for a while, then nodded. "Yes, there was a letter signed with 'Amean' slid underneath the Compan Apartment door. Merda put it on your nightstand. At least he said so, I didn't check.", Amean listened to Belvus explain, with growing confusion.
"Um, okay? I'll check it out, thank you, Belvus.", the Animal Magician said, with a looming, dark feeling in his gut suddenly.
"Hey, Amean - welcome back.", Belvus called after him quickly, and Amean gave him another shining smile. He would have to hang out with him more often.
~
There was indeed a letter on bis nightstand. How could he have missed that before? Just leaning the door close, not fully closing it in fear he might relapse so quickly again, and opened the window for the same reasons. It was almost midday, at least from the way the sun was almost at peak, Amean guessed so. The air was so fresh, still, it almost hurt his lungs.
Taking the letter from his bedstand, he flipped it over and read his name - written by a handwriting he wasn't sure he ever saw, but that made something inside of him react. As if reading the handwritten name was telling him everything about the content of the whole letter, how shaky the n, his last letter, had become, while the A was swung with so much determination. The hairs of his neck stood up. Something was wrong. This letter smelled like Killah - this handwriting was Killah's. Amean wasn't sure, but somehow, his unconscious really was.
But why would Killah write him a letter? Just the thought of her sitting down and taking a pen to really write something seemed so hilarious that Amean chuckled nervously. Why would Killah write a letter? Why couldn't she just show up and shake him awake? What was so important that it needed to be written down?
Suddenly, Amean was afraid - really afraid.
Sitting down on his bed, he pulled the letter open as gentle as he could, trying to not wrinkle or rip it. He slipped the paper out and as soon as he read the first paragraph consisting of only two sentences, his heart slipped down and fell to his feet. Killah called herself a coward. There was something wrong. There was something so, so wrong - so wrong.
Amean's hands shaking, he had the overwhelming urge to just stand up and run to her, grab her by the arms and ask her what was wrong - but he probably got all the answers he needed in this letter first. Still, he didn't want to read it. He had to force his eyes to continue.
He had tried so hard not to wrinkle the paper when he had opened the letter, yet now he was grabbing it with all of his force. Every sentence bore so much of her, so much of her soul and her experience and it made him implode. She felt herself drawn to him. The dreams had been real. The war, the killing, the cold, it made her tired. She thought he didn't deserve her.
She loved him.
The whole letter seemed to be void as he read those last words. Killah loved him. The letter was unsigned, but that didn't matter, there was not an ounce of doubt that it was Killah who had written him, who was suffering, who loved him... who was gone.
His insides were brightly aflame, burning, consuming him with so much force and noise that it almost drove him mad. Salsia's death had been one emotion consuming him - now it was a million. A million feelings roaring and raging and screaming - tugging and pulling on him.
She loved him.
Oh God, Amean loved her. Had he realized until now? He knew he had a huge crush on her. He knew she was the prettiest, most amazing, most badass, strongest woman he had ever seen. He knew he dreamed about her. He loved her. His heart was beating so strong - it was so happy, Amean wanted to jump and scream in joy, if at the same time there were not all of these other thousand, horrible and stronger emotions.
Killah had left, and she was tired, and hurt - and it hurt him, so much, he didn't want her to feel like this, the longing for sleep, the longing for this horrible war to finally, finally be over, something he knew so well, too. It was sadness and empathy creating the urge to just hold her close, her, Killah, who was always so strong and in control. Hold her tight and take over, if he wasn't so raging angry at the same time.
She had left, just like that - she loved him, and yet she wasn't giving herself, themselves any chance. How could she not try? How could she just leave him like that - his heart throbbing and raw and screaming and - !
Gripping the letter harder, Amean bend forward over it, his teeth grit and jaw clenched. Why wasn't he given a second to rest? Pressing his left hand over his eyes to deny his tears, for a split-second, Amean felt endlessly tired again. Why was all of this happening? Why wasn't he allowed happiness?
Grasping his hair, Amean sobbed on the edge of his bed. Why wasn't allowing Killah herself happiness? Why had she gone? Why had she left him with this? Why was it such an uncertain good-bye?
~
Amean had sat there for an hour easily, his face in his hands, the letter laying on his lap, crumbled where his anger-ridden fingers had held it.
He did not wake up for this, no. He did not dream about her for this.
Slowly letting the hands glide down his face, Amean sat upright again, looking outside. The sky was blue, yet mostly covered by a blanket of clouds.
No.
He didn't accept it. He didn't like this letter one bit, and it was so selfish of him, but he wouldn't accept it. Killah didn't just get to tell him she loved him and then take upon finding her family all by herself.
Amean wouldn't let her, and it was so horrible of him that his hatred for himself grew a bit stronger. Wiping the last reminder of tears off of his face, Amean sat up and packed.
No, Amean Dorian wouldn't accept this letter, nor the content until he found her, and shook her and had her say it all to his face.
Knocking on the door could only mean someone visiting from outside of his own Compan, so while jumping around, Kelt got over to the door, and opened it widely, smiling into the face of an unknown - or did he know him - guy, who seemed to need his help.
He really was exactly like people had told him - and like Amean had gotten the first impression of. Which was good. If this man was motivated and open to work, they could find her a lot easier. Amean thought about fumbling out the letter for a second, showing him everything, but... he couldn't. No way he could. She would kill him. But he knew the words by heart anyway.
There... there is, or was, or will - i don't know - a mission or something similar to Warlestian, right? Do you know anything about it? Your friends with the Sers, right?
This was the place, Amean was sure of it - he had asked around and written the adress on a piece of paper he was holding in his hand in iron grip. It was midday by now, and he really didn't know if he was there anyway, but he needed to try. Amean knocked on Kelt Major's Compans' apartment door, again and again, until the door was opened and Amean sighed out in relief.
Thank Uan and Tuan. Thank all before me. Kelt - I need your help.
They were back in the forest, and Miero was on edge. The ancient trees and plants had seemed so comforting the first time around (initially, at least), but the feeling of being disconnected and powerless kept rising in him, and he found himself reaching out to the nearest vegetation every few minutes with his magic. Not to mention, the beast. Fighting for his life on the battlefield was one thing—he had to protect his group, his family, and he knew that if he died it would be for his country. But the… thing… he’d faced down with Kelt and Deas, it stalked him every night as he tried to get to sleep, and he couldn’t stop imagining those children, their last moments—he knew the fear they must have felt, and it sickened him. It could have ripped him apart—would have—just for the fun of it. There was no honour to be found in the jaws of a monster.
He hadn’t told Reed or anyone else about the monster and the children, even though it came out eventually anyway. And now they were back. There was nothing he could do about it, the order came through that they were to help the citizens in their attempts to revolt, and off they went. Kelt and Deas were both gone, and no one else around had any idea what it had actually been like. They’d had the fear, some of them, but they hadn’t fought what had caused it.
So, it was sleepless nights and checking his magic hadn’t left in a paranoid manner for the time being. Miero wished he could stop being afraid, but it didn’t seem to be up to him. The morning found him unusually sombre as he waited outside for whoever had been assigned to work with him to show up. They were staying on the outskirts of a small town close to the areas of WoodElvia where the major fighting had been happening. The Knights were keeping a low profile, so as to not make it easier for the DracoMancers to locate the headquarters and leaders of the revolt, and the assignment Miero had that day was to simply be on the lookout for any enemy activity. He hadn’t actually met any of the leaders of this movement, but they were around here somewhere. Miero gazed up at a grey, cloudy sky, and hoped his partner would be someone he liked, to take his mind off of everything else. He heard someone approach.
So this was it. He was finally out on the field again. He had gotten a month of vacation, which was more to treat his trauma so they wouldn't have Knights that suddenly had break-downs on the battlefield than having him actually calm down. But he got the time anyway.
Yet now it was over, and even if his feet still stood on the ground more shaking than standing, especially with everything that had... gone on with Killah.
Amean took a very sharp breath of the WoodElvian forest air - so different than the air in the cities. It was fresh and dark, in a way, it smelled like warm earth, even though it was so cold and snowing.
Taking more steps through the snow, Amean made his way further through the woods. Behind him, the organisations all around the revolt were running high - and it was his job to make sure no Mancers would get too close to the villages around Neas, rumors were they did not like the thought of an revolt at all. At least he would work in pairs, and not alone, Amean was not sure if he should be alone right now, after he had been for so long. It had only made things worse, and it needed this dream with Killah to - well. This dream. So being alone had improved things.
Groaning, Amean run his hands through his hair trying to get further away from all the confusion and emotion-hang-over. When he looked up again, at least he saw someone he knew he generally got along with. A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Hey, Miero. Are you-", Amean started, then just stopped, mentally shrugged and walked up to him. Of course he would be his partner. This was the meeting spot, after all.
Killah looked out at the vivid landscape, and answered Yes to his question. It’s probably the only place in the Fifth Gate that can manage to have a desert next to the ocean… That made a funny sort of sense to her. It’s a place of extremes I guess. I was nine when they took me, so it probably isn’t exactly like this, she admitted.
Amean began to explain and Killah stayed quiet. She felt his hand settle onto the back of her neck and tried not to squirm. She was still skittish enough around this real-live-not-a-dream-at-all-Amean-Dorian that running away was a tempting (if childish) reaction, but selfish enough to want to push back, encourage scritches. Either option brought too many complex, distracting feelings with it. So she ignored his touch, like a weirdo, and tried to focus.
Amean stroked her neck while listening to Killah's voice inside his head - stroked until his hand started shaking so hard that he had to stop. He knew it was true that he put this guilt upon himself more than anyone, knew because he had talked to Absarc, and Absarc said it was okay. Knew because he talked to the others, and they said it was okay. Now Killah said it was a lie, too, and it might be a lie, and yes, he was putting it upon himself, but it was what felt fair to him at the moment.
So he continued doing it, just to be someone that suffered, too, so Salsia wasn't the only one. Which was foolish in itself, but Amean had no strength to be self-reflective more than he was already.
Amean thought of his family, his siblings, his parents. He looked at Killah from the courner of his eye. Yes, important was true. Even if he wanted to survive at all costs - if it really came down to it, the Sers, or basically any Knight other than him, anyone stronger, had better chances to end this war than him - and that would mean saving his family and all those lives, too.
The Teccup felt calm. Hopeless in one way, and a little more hopeful in another, which was confusing, but still true. He felt so calm, until she continued talking about Salsia, and it was about their death again. Then, the calmness vanished in a sea of broken up emotions again, of memories and the same feelings he had back then - panic and fear and anger. But the feelings of hope from before were still there - and suddenly... suddenly it all made so much more sense. Suddenly it made sense to Amean personally, not only as a concept.
No, they hadn't been friends. But they had gone on this suicide mission, had entered HagaFosiel, had come for her. She must have known, right? She must have known she was important. Just like... just like Amean knew they had been important to her.
They weren't friends, but they were team members.
It was stupid, it was so stupid, it was obvious and he had known before, of course. But only together with what Killah had said to him, it became something. It meant something.
A sob escaping his throat, Amean felt how his face turned into a grimace and his world turned blurry as his eyes filled with tears. He would have almost started bawling like a child right then and there - but something rough and wet stroke over his wrist and the surprise shook him out of it.
Killah had licked him. If wolves could look awkward, this was it. If Amean could look any worse - cheeks reddened, eyes wet, staring at Killah in utter surprise, had almost cried.
Silence.
Then, weirdly, Amean started to grin, and his grin turned into a chuckle, until he was full blown laughing. Laughing, the tears that had already in his eyes being pressed out, pressing his hands on his face until he stopped.
"This is messing with my brain.", he said, then he rolled over to the wolf - what was this?! He was dreaming about wolves and dreaming about Killah and crying and laughing - and pressed himself onto her wolf body as hard as he felt like was okay in pressure. His arms diving through the sand underneath her ribcage and burying his face in her.
Felt just like a dog. "Thank yo- no. What? Well... thank you?", Amean brought out, confused over if he should just pretend this all was a dream, or be freaked out by how much it was not like a dream and his head was already hurting. "If you're real, tell me.", he said, not looking at her. "If I'm going insane, tell Reemus."
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